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graffiti

Woken at 6am to the sound of Grogorian chant music – better than a harsh alarm clock anyway! Ready to leave as it was getting light, Sarah had already left and it took me a while to catch up with her. Very pleasant walking through more vineyards and we reached the outskirts of Nájera quite early. We flopped at the first cafe/bar we found. No other peregrinos only locals.

The first highlight of our day was a huge supermarket. We were almost overwhelmed by the size and choice! I think my rucksack is 2kg heavier after the visit but at least I won’t be stuck for something to eat for a few days 🙂

The path wound around the town, I think the local authorities purposely take the poor unsuspecting pilgrims on the “scenic route”.

Another hot day and I was happy to see the small town of Azofra appearing before me. The municipal hostel had beds for the night so we checked in there. It’s very pleasant with two beds per room and a COLD pool for soaking your poor weary feet in!

The second highlight of the day was the Lamborghini LOVE tractor parked outside the bar. It looked pretty ancient, a bit like it’s owner really.

We sat at the bar for at least an hour, 2 cafe solos, 1 agua con gas, 1 vino tinto. Perfect. Back to the hostel, a little lunch from the stash obtained from the giant supermarket (may as well lighten my load a little).

Wandered around town. Met a little old man who chatted with me in Spanish, welcomed me to Rioja and said it was a beautiful place and good wine, asked me where I was from and then wished me “Buen Camino”. How lovely 🙂

Back at the hostel chatted with some guys from kent, one of which had walked the Butt to Barra and had loved it. Feeling very chilled out.

Graffiti just outside Nájera

I believe the rough translation of this graffiti poem is:-

Dust and mud, sun and rain,
Such is the way to Santiago.
Thousands of pilgrims
And more than a thousand of years.
Pilgrim: who calls you?
What hidden power attracts you?
It’s not the field of stars
Nor the great cathedrals.

It is not the beauty of Navarra
Nor the wine of Rioja
Nor the seafood of Galicia
Nor the fields of Castilla

Pilgrim, who is it who calls you?
What unseen power attracts you?

Not the people of the camino
Nor their rural customs.
It is not the history nor the culture
Not the rooster of the Calzada
Nor the palace of Gaudi
Nor the castle of Ponferrada.

All that is seen in passing,
And it is a joy to see it all,
Is still less than the voice that calls
The feeling that is yet so much deeper.

The power that pushes me
The force that attracts me
I know not how to explain it.
Only He who is above understands it.